


love's the boy

by Skylark



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dating, Established Relationship, M/M, Poetry, Reading Aloud, Very mild PDA, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: Akaashi reads him love poems, and Kuroo listens.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isshikisenpai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isshikisenpai/gifts).



> Happy birthday Kukki ;A; !!!!!! I hope this year is just spectacular for you. [Title credit](http://wonderingminstrels.blogspot.com/2002/02/casabianca-elizabeth-bishop.html) (which happens to be my favorite poem of all time).

Akaashi is waiting at the crosswalk, huddled against a shopfront's brick exterior to avoid the ceaseless flow of traffic. His gaze is placid as he stares down at his tablet, his body still except for the infrequent flicks of his finger against the screen. _Always reading,_ Kuroo thinks, smiling a little.

Kuroo doesn't announce his presence at first. Instead he moves toward the wall himself and sidles towards Akaashi step by step, trying to be unobtrusive. When he's at Akaashi's side, he settles his back against the brick and waits, hands nestled in his pockets, watching the sea of people as they pass by. It's the middle of the day, and breezy; Kuroo's scarf is wrapped loosely around his neck, and his jacket dangles open. Akaashi doesn't look at him, but Kuroo doesn't mind.

He waits until Akaashi stirs, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as his head tips back, pulling himself out of the world the book had placed him in. "Hello," he says, giving him a slow smile. 

Kuroo smiles back. "You could have waited for me inside," he says. "What are you reading?"

"It was humid in the café," he replies, "and I didn't want to order before you arrived." Kuroo nods, because this makes a sort of sense: Akaashi eats very quickly, and there's no doubt he would have finished his meal long before Kuroo got there. "And," Akaashi continues, "I was reading poetry."

"Poetry, huh?" Kuroo leans over, pulling the tablet closer to his face. "Let me see."

"It's," Akaashi starts, startled by how rapidly Kuroo has moved into his personal space. "I'm not sure you'd—"

Kuroo keeps tugging on his unresisting arm, pulling the tablet up until it covers both their faces, and then dips forward for a kiss.

\--

The café really is stuffy, the air overheated by the presence of so many customers, so they only dip inside to get coffee and a snack before wandering out again to stand on the sidewalk and eat. Kuroo watches Akaashi. He eats neatly, but voraciously, pausing occasionally to swipe sauce away ftom the center of his mouth with the tip of his thumb.

Once they're done eating, they migrate aimlessly down the street. They stop at a stationery store so Akaashi can replace a pen's ink cartridge that has run dry, and end up at a local shrine. It's empty this time of day, the light wind too weak to stir the heavy belled rope that dangles beneath the shrine eaves.

Sitting on a low bench together, Akaashi's hands twitch. Kuroo is well familiar with the habits of introverts, and knows what such a gesture means. "Do you want to go back to reading?" he asks.

Akaashi shakes his head. "There's no need to be so indulgent of my bad habits," he says. "I've been looking forward to spending time with you today."

"Me too," Kuroo says, gazing around them. The trees around them are tall with age and bare for the winter. It's very quiet. "Do you think anyone is going to come by?"

"To the shrine, here?" Akaashi frowns, considering the area around them as Kuroo had moments before. "It's unlikely, considering it's the middle of a workday."

"I think so, too," he says, "so then you should let me rest my head in your lap, and read to me."

Akaashi arches an eyebrow. Kuroo's grin widens. "Kills two birds with one stone, doesn't it?" he says. "You get to read your book and spend time with me, too."

"Hmm," Akaashi says, but the corners of his mouth are curving upward a little, and Kuroo knows he's convinced him. "Well. All right. Come here, Kuroo-san."

Kuroo doesn't usually like lying supine, but the firm pressure of the wooden slats against the muscles of his back feels nice. Nicer still is the feel of Akaashi's thigh beneath his head. He looks up and sees the slight outward billow of Akaashi's button-down shirt, framed by the neat black lines of his winter coat, and then beyond that the curve of Akaashi's neck, his serious gaze, the purse of his mouth while he chooses a poem to read.

" _Detail of the woods,_ " he says, his voice slipping into a soothing inflection. He glances down at Kuroo once, as if to ascertain that he's listening, before he reads.

"I looked at all the trees and didn’t know what to do.

"A box made out of leaves.  
What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.

"Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.  
I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.

"From the landscape: a sense of scale.  
From the dead: a sense of scale.

"I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority.  
Everything casts a shadow.

"Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything."

The air feels heavier when he finishes. There's silence between them for a long moment as Kuroo considers it. 

"'Everyone needs a place,'" Kuroo murmurs, looking up. Akaashi gazes back, unafraid of his judgement.

"Read me another one," he says.

Akaashi does, but not just of Richard Siken. He flips through poets, Elizabeth Bishop and William Carlos Williams and Bashō, interspersing serious poems with humorous ones, structured classics with modern free verse. The empty branches cast shadows across their bodies, and eventually Kuroo closes his eyes, letting the cadence of Akaashi's voice wash over him. He comments on the ones he likes, and they talk about the ones he isn't quite sure of. Akaashi fills in with details about the poem's style or the time period, but never talks about the poets themselves; it gives Kuroo freer rein to imagine what he wants from the poems. It lets him pretend for a moment that it's Akaashi saying these things unscripted, unrehearsed, that it's the things Akaashi would say if he could find the words himself.

"It's late," Akaashi says eventually. There's regret in his voice. "We should go."

Kuroo sighs and stretches before he lopes onto his feet. "Walk to the station?" he offers.

Akaashi closes his tablet and takes Kuroo's hand. Their fingers entwine gently, dangling in the small space between them. "Yes," he says. "I'd like that."


End file.
